Harry Potter and the Lost Unicorn
by Nail Polish
Summary: Finally updated, up to chapter 5, more coming, I promise. Nice twisty plot involving Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, a Magical Quest and a Romance(undisclosed). Questioned loyalties too. Fun!
1. Correspondence

070203: hello! got bitten by an update bug, so set to edit every single chapter so that I won't be so mortified by this whole thing. Anyway, pretty minor changes (for this chapter anyway), which are quite pointless for those who have been reading all along, but all the same, I suppose that this will help me write, kind of. just bear with me. =)   
  
Disclaimer: Not mine. All borrowed from the esteemed Ms Rowling.   
  


CHAPTER ONE

  


CORRESPONDENCE

  
  
_23:59, July 30th_  
Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, was staring out of his window at No.4 Privet Drive. It was a perfectly normal night, and everything was quiet outside; only the cries of cats on their nightly conquests could be heard in the distance.  
  
_Midnight_  
"Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me-e, happy fifteenth birthday to me..." Harry sang under his breath. He wondered how many more of his own birthdays he would be able to celebrate, now that Voldemort was back.  
  
He shook himself out of those morbid thoughts, and with a sigh, settled down to sleep. Prof. Dumbledore had written a letter to his aunt and uncle, informing them of the Dark Lord's return, and explaining how his safety was threatened, and that it was within everyone's best interests to take extra precautions when going out. His uncle had snorted and muttered something about it being better off for everyone, were Harry to die.   
  
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he heard an urgent tapping at his window. It was Hedwig. He hurried to let the snowy white owl in. She was carrying a parchment in her beak. He took it from her, and she nipped his finger gently. It turned out to be a letter from Ron, wishing him a happy birthday, and inviting him to spend the rest of the holidays at the Burrow. Harry's mood brightened considerably at the thought of seeing Ron again, but he chose to write to Sirius and Dumbledore first, just in case.   
  
Two other owls had arrived, bearing more letters. One was from Hermione, and the other carried birthday wishes from Sirius and Hagrid. As usual, all gave him food along with their birthday gifts, knowing that he was being made to follow Dudley's diet, along with the rest of the Dursleys. (He seemed even fatter to Harry, if it were even possible for him to grow any wider.)  
  
Just then, a black owl swooped through the open window, dropped a letter onto his lap and flew off. Harry picked up the letter, wondering who it could be from. He turned the envelope over - it was unmarked.  
  
He ripped the envelope open. The letter inside read:  
  
_Potter-  
the Leaky Cauldron, 5pm sharp on 15 August. _  
  
The letter bore no signature, nor anything else that could provide a clue as to who the sender could be, save the letterhead - it was the embossed symbol of a single serpent, curled around a dagger.  
Harry shuddered - the eyes of the snake seemed to glint evilly in the moonlight. If, indeed, he should go to the Burrow, this letter deserved a special mention to Hermione.  
  
Harry duly replied to the rest of his correspondence, and, upon completion of the task, stretched back, satisfied. In the periphery of his vision, he caught sight of the letter again. He perused it at length, and decided that he would give the matter no more thought until he received the replies to the letters he had just sent out.  
  


* * *

  
  
_Harry-  
I've consulted with Dumbledore, and he agrees that it would not be inappropriate for you to visit the Burrow. But do take extra precautions and refrain from jumping headfirst into trouble. Keep us informed.  
  
Snuffles  
  
_

* * *

  
  
"Suit yourself, go if you wish to, but I must make it clear that you are to expect no assistance from me whatsoever. If you choose to spend the remainder of your holidays with a family of lunatics, that is none of my concern. And good riddance too, I'll say!"  
  


* * *

  
  
11:00, 5th August  
"Harry! Hermione! Over here!!!" Ron yelled at the top of his voice to catch his best friends' attention.   
Harry and Hermione turned and stared, their faces breaking into brilliant smiles as they walked towards the Weasleys, who had turned up in all their eight-party entirety to escort the two to the Burrow. All thoughts of Voldemort and his Death Eaters' return were forgotten for the moment as everyone exchanged greetings and hugs, and snippets of the conversation could momentarily be heard until they were drowned out by the cacophony they created . At last, they quieted down to a degree, and it was possible to hear Mrs. Weasley saying, "...unpack, you can catch up on the news, we'll be having a picnic on the 14th, and on the 15th, we'll be going to Diagon Alley to get your school stuff. It'd still be rather crowded, but at least we won't have to deal with the last-minute rush."  
  
The date arranged for the visit to Diagon Alley rung a bell in Harry's head - he remembered with a start that it was the day arranged by the mysterious writer for them to meet at the Leaky Cauldron. Should they meet? Would it be prudent? Suddenly, he couldn't wait for the day to end, for he desperately needed Hermione's counsel.  
  


-TO BE CONTINUED-

  
  
  
  
A/N: What do you think? Better? or odd? comments on plot, characterization and diction please. Does it sound childish? shallow? fangirlish? oh, and *huggles beta*. VyingQuill made some of those really stupid-sounding sentences actually sound right. yay! 


	2. Decisions and Shocking Revelations

Disclaimer: Just about everything you recognize belongs to Ms Rowling and her publishers. Just about the rest is mine.  
  
And now, without further ado, let me present:  
  


CHAPTER TWO

  


DECISIONS AND SHOCKING REVELATIONS

  
  
  
After what seemed like an eternity in the Weasleys' sitting room, accompanied, as usual, by Mr. Weasley's enquiries on common Muggle practices, Fred and George's concerns over Dudley's health, Ginny just looking at Harry without really seeing him, and Mrs. Weasley fussing over him and just mothering him, Harry was glad when finally she exclaimed, "Why, look at the time! How time passes when you are enjoying yourself!"  
  
With that, everyone decided that it was time to call it a night, and started trooping up the stairs, headed for their respective bedrooms. Harry was glad that finally he could seek Hermione's advice over the mysterious letter.  
  
He called her aside. "Hermione, don't go to bed yet. I've got something really important to show you, and...just follow me, come to Ron's room...it's in my trunk. You'll see."  
  
She was puzzled, but her curiosity had been piqued. There was little to do but to follow him. "Just run along and go to bed first, Ginny, I'm sure I'll be back in no time at all," she promised.  
  


* * *

  
  
In the room, Harry shut the door after him quietly. He strode over to the cot, where his trunk lay, and drew an envelope out of one of the side-compartments. He held it out to Hermione.  
  
She scanned the letter quickly, and passed it to Ron. Both faces looked mystified, to varying degrees. Ron's, however, carried traces of disgust.  
  
"I'm not sure what to make of it, Harry. The handwriting seems familiar, yet I can't quite place it...the letterhead, though, is unique, and I might be able to find something about it in the school library when school reopens, but that would be rather late, wouldn't it? I mean, you're supposed to meet on the 15th... do you plan to meet the writer of this letter? I mean..."  
  
Suddenly, Ron burst out, "It sounds like Malfoy! Yes! I mean, think about it, who else would call you 'Potter'? And it's just like him too, to show off with the fancy paper and whatnot..."  
  
Hermione cut in, "While many people would address Harry by his last name, including practically the whole of Slytherin, yes...I see how you might be right... Malfoy might be the most likely candidate. The coldness and brevity of the letter seems characteristic of his callous nature, and he's certainly rich enough to have such kinds of personalized stationery, and, yes, to 'show off' as well, as you have just pointed out - amazing insight on your part, Ron...and the handwriting...yes...that's probably his, I might have seen it in Arithmancy...oh! Look at the symbol, at the hilt of the dagger! Do you see it? You can just make out an 'M'..."  
  
She turned excitedly to Harry. "Yes, it must be him! Malfoy! Ron, you've just proven that you can be absolutely brilliant! Now if you'd just work harder in your lessons..."  
Ron turned beet red at this unexpected praise.  
  
Harry looked perplexed. "So...we've just about determined that the letter is from Malfoy. But then...what am I supposed to do? Should I meet him? And...what if it _isn't_ him? Why would he even send me a letter anyway?"  
  
Hermione, ever sensible, responded, "Evidently, he requires help of some kind...Harry, I think you'd better go, I mean, the fact is...he must have worked up considerable gut to ask you, his archenemy, for help."  
  
"Yeah, provided he's actually asking for help. Harry, what if you go and he kidnaps you or challenges you to a duel or something? And obviously he was too cowardly to even sign off his name."  
  
Harry was silent for a moment. Both his friends had put up some very valid arguments, of course. Yet...what if Malfoy (if it were indeed him) truly needed help? He couldn't very well just...leave him in the lurch, could he? Well, sure, Malfoy had done some pretty nasty things to them in the past. Would probably continue doing so, in fact. But he was a git and couldn't help it. Harry wasn't like him, and wasn't about to sink to his level. Besides, there was the possibility that it wasn't him at all. Harry made up his mind. "I'll go," he told them, and was rewarded with a pleasing smile from Hermione, and a look of utter horror and disgust from Ron.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
While Ron may have disapproved of his decision to meet the enigmatic writer, this did nothing to affect their holiday mood in the days leading towards the fifteenth. Every day was spent with fun and games, food and quidditch, warm conversations around the hearth, and with teasing Ginny, who still hadn't quite gotten over blushing whenever Harry 'condescended' to speak with her.  
  
At last, the night of the 14th arrived, warm and clear, creating a perfect setting for an outdoor picnic dinner. From mid-afternoon, the whole house was abuzz with excitement from the preparation for the picnic.  
  
Percival Weasley, considering himself too important to be involved with the actual work itself, proceeded to instruct various members of the family on what he felt was the best way to set about doing whatever it was they happened to be doing at the moment, and generally made a large nuisance out of himself.  
  
Mr. Weasley was occupied with the task of setting the tables up, and dragged a protesting Percy out of the house to assist him, much to the gratitude of everyone.  
  
The rest of the children were busy in the kitchen, helping Mrs. Weasley with the food. That is to say, Ginny was helping with the preparation of it, Harry and Ron were occupied with the consumption of it, Fred and George were trying to halt any progress there was to be made, and Hermione was ensuring that nobody would turn into something...unnatural...by eating any of the food. Unfortunately for the younger boys, the plate they were attacking had not been certified clean by Hermione. They had to spend part of the afternoon in the form of canaries, much to their dismay and to the twins' amusement.  
  
Finally, the picnic was ready. Mr. Weasley, who had spent most of the last few days at the Ministry, attending long meetings and seldom returning before the children had all retired to their bedrooms, had news impart to them near the end of the meal. And shocking news it was,too.  
  
"Did you know," he remarked casually, "that just this morning, the Board of Ministers decided that Sirius Black was to be pronounced a free man?"  
  
A collective gasp arose from the startled lips of the picnic-goers.   
  
"WHAT?"  
  


-TO BE CONTINUED-

  
  
  
  
A/N: yeah, well...so how was that? I sure hope it was better than the original. Do you think the sentences are too long? Too draggy, perhaps? And, as always, eternal gratitude towards VyingQuill. 


	3. Indeed, Very Shocking Revelations

Disclaimer: Just about everything you recognize belongs to Ms Rowling and her publishers. Just about the rest is mine.  
  


CHAPTER 3

  


INDEED, _VERY_ SHOCKING REVELATIONS

  
  
  
"Yes, it's true," Mr. Weasley assured them, clearly enjoying the attention he was getting from this controversial declaration.  
  
He went on to speak of Crouch's confession, the capture of Peter Pettigrew and his confessions, under the inducement of Veritaserum, as well as Albus Dumbledore's vote of confidence for Sirius Black.   
  
"While all this may not be much," he admitted, "the Board has decided that it is sufficient evidence for Black to be released, until further incriminating evidence be produced against him, or in the event of any misconduct on his part. That is to say, he is released, but he will be watched closely. More investigations will be conducted in the next few days - more Veritaserum may have to be used than is preferred - and if all goes well and the explanations tally, the press conference will be held within the week."  
  
Everyone was stunned when they heard this. Ginny was the first to regain her wits.  
"Wasn't Peter Pettigrew supposed to be dead? I thought...I thought Sirius Black had killed him?"  
  
"Yeah, and so did everyone else," said Harry, softly, "Peter Pettigrew was also known as Scabbers. Most who knew him would agree that he was timid and weak and would be incapable of any evil. Yet...it was this weakness he possessed that made it so easy, so easy for the Dark Lord to lay his claim over him. He was the one who killed those people, rapidly changing his form, disappearing as a rat, laying all the blame on Sirius. Sirius' lack of guilt helped him survive those long years in Azkaban. Yes...Pettigrew must have gotten complacent, to get caught after all these years...all these years when everyone thought he was dead..." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and held a special quality to it, that kept his audience riveted.  
  
"And a good thing too," remarked Mr. Weasley suddenly, startling those around him. "His truth serum-induced confession has proved to be very useful to us, confirming a claim Harry made some months ago, that You-Know-Who has, in fact, been resurrected. Yes...it confirms just about everything Harry told Cornelius Fudge then - Pettigrew's confession has snapped him into his senses and he is now working very hard to find evidence to prove several claims which both you, Harry, and Pettigrew have made. As I have said, investigations will be carried out in the next few days, and if the various accounts - Crouch's, Pettigrew's, Lupin's, Black's, Dumbledore's, and yours, Harry - if they all tally, then in the press conference, the detention of Pettigrew, the release of Black (your godfather, is he not, Harry?), and the return of the Dark Lord will all be announced."  
  
Such a torrent of information, shocking, to say the least, has been unsettling towards most of the audience present. For some moments, they were rendered incapable of speech and movement; indeed, it was only when a rumble of thunder was heard overhead that Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Well. Well. That was...interesting...wasn't it?" she ventured, faltering. "Come now, it's about to rain, help me get all these things inside."  
  
As the children helped her, still dazed, you could hear Percy mumble, "Mr. Crouch? But surely not...there must be some kind of mistake...yes...surely that's what it is..."  
  


* * *

  
  
The morning brought a semblance of normality back into the Burrow. Perhaps they had mulled over the revelations over the night and come to terms with it, perhaps they had worked hard to suppress all the night from memory, to pretend they had never heard such things, but in any case, the Weasley kitchen was noisy as ever. However, they did sound more strained with the effort it took to create the delusion that nothing largely opinion-altering had happened the night before.  
  
They duly had breakfast, and then came the flurry of preparations for the trip to Diagon Alley. Cloaks were put on, Hogwarts letters were searched for, much scrambling ensued. At long last, everyone was gathered in front of the fireplace, ready as ever for the trip.  
  
While Harry had never quite acquired the taste for traveling by Floo since his second year in Hogwarts, he was pleased by the fact that this time, he ended up in the right place, without injuring himself.   
  
He did, however, land on his face. And not only that, but he landed on his face before someone's feet.  
  
The feet, he saw, were bound by a pair of leather shoes. Leather shoes with an 'M' for the buckle. Rather expensive leather shoes, by the looks of it.   
  
A feeling of dread encompassed him suddenly. With some trepidation, he looked up. What he saw confirmed his suspicions.  
  
An all-too-familiar face, framed with pale blond hair, smirk firmly in place, complete with aristocratic nose and cold grey eyes stared down at him.   
  
"Well, would you look at this!" the mouth, formerly twisted in a smirk, untwisted momentarily to utter this sentence. "Harry Potter, The Git Who Lived, prostrated at my feet! Someone, quick! Take a picture for posterity!"  
  
Indeed, the face he was met with belonged to none other than Draco Malfoy.   
  


-TO BE CONTINUED-

  
  
  
A/N: like it? hope it wasn't too confusing for you..please review. 


	4. Rendezvous

Disclaimer: Just about everything you recognize belongs to Ms Rowling and her publishers. Just about the rest is mine.  
  


CHAPTER FOUR

  


RENDEZ-VOUS

  
  
  
Twenty minutes into this exchange, Fred and George Weasley dragged the two adolescents apart. And then, it was only because Mrs. Weasley made them. The two boys, the dark-haired one rapidly assuming a black eye and the fair-haired one sporting a cut lip were still hurling insults at each other, from a distance. Harry swore to himself that he would not meet Malfoy later, at five. Draco chided himself silently for asking for the stupid Potter boy's help.  
  
At five in the evening, both boys were seated, quite hidden from view, at a small booth at the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Hermione had convinced Harry to go.   
  
"But it might not even be Malfoy! And, if it were him, he'd find you a coward if you didn't go."  
  
"I'm not a coward! Fine! I'll go!" with that, Harry stomped off to take his leave from Mrs. Weasley. Hermione just looked smug.  
  
Lucius had insisted that Draco go.   
  
"Too cowardly, boy? Afraid of Potter? Maybe you should reconsider your loyalties...I'm sure the Dark Lord will be only too willing to replace as incompetent a servant as you are..."  
  
That reminded Draco of the importance of this meeting. Needless to say, he went.  
  


* * *

  
  
"I didn't think you'd come, Potter."  
  
Harry, still nursing a four-year old grudge and a black eye to top it, growled, "I shouldn't have come."  
  
"You're here now, aren't you? So shut up," Draco replied, signaling for two Butterbeers.  
  
"Fine. Let's get this over and done with. What do you want?" He asked, reaching for a Butterbeer and taking a long sip.  
  
"First. How'd you know it was me?"  
  
"I didn't. Hermione and Ron helped."  
  
"Ha! I should have known you were too dumb to figure out my identity without help from Mudblood and the Weasel!"  
  
"Draco Malfoy, you are dangerously close to making me really, _really_ mad. So I suggest you cut out the insults and just tell me what you want. And oh, at least I have friends who'd help me, unlike you, and I don't have to come begging to my worst enemy."  
  
That shut him up. Somewhat. "I didn't come here to ask for your help. There are plenty of people out there who would be perfectly willing to help me if I needed it. Not, of course, that I do."  
  
Harry's eyebrows lifted questioningly. "So you didn't come here to ask for help. What, then? To profess your undying love for me?"  
  
A faint blush colored the other boy's pale cheeks. Harry marveled at how this little change made him seem so much more human.  
  
"While you may entertain fantasies about me in your sleep, rest assured that such nightmares do not plague me. In fact, I ah...uhh...um. Right. Actually. I'mheretoaskforyourhelp."  
  
Harry would have laughed out loud if it were not for the glare he received from the other boy. He had heard Draco perfectly, of course. So he asked, "Excuse me? I couldn't quite catch that...would you mind repeating it?"  
  
Draco swore under his breath. He gritted his teeth. "You heard me right the first time. I-need-your-help."  
  
Harry's face broke into a grin. He couldn't help it. "Really? How so?"  
  
Draco glared at him again. "The Dark Lord has risen again. Don't look so surprised; you knew it beforehand anyway. You contributed to his resurrection."  
  
Harry winced at his choice of words, but urged him to continue anyway. Of course he would have known - Lucius Malfoy was present at the time.  
  
"So. Many of his former Death Eaters have either been killed or captured, or else they have converted to the Light. These will be hunted down and killed, of course, while those captured will be released. My point is - You-Know-Who needs more supporters. And who would be a better candidate than one of his shrewdest Death Eater's sons? He wanted me to become a Death Eater."  
  
Harry nodded in agreement. He would expect no less from him. Yet he couldn't have expected Draco's next admission.  
  
"Well, the thing is, I _don't_ want to be a Death Eater."  
  
Coming from Draco Malfoy, this was news indeed. Harry was tempted to shake him and yell, "You're not Malfoy! What did you do to him? And thanks, by the way." But he shook his head and repressed the urge to do so. Instead, he asked, carefully, "But...why? I mean, all these years, you've been tormenting us and all...you mean that was all just a show? I..." He was rendered totally speechless.  
  
Draco looked annoyed. "Obviously that was just an act. Couldn't very well live up to my father's reputation by being a goody-two-shoes now, could I? It is imperative that I continue maintaining such an image. Anyway, my father says that there is a way for me to escape the fate of being a Death Eater - a gift of the horn of a Lost Unicorn would be sufficient contribution for the Dark Lord, enough, so that it would not be necessary for me to become one of his minions."  
  
"But what has all this got to do with me?"  
  
"Well...the Unicorn will only allow one who has survived the killing curse to touch it - anyone else who touches it will die."  
  
"I see. But where am I supposed to find this Lost Unicorn? How? And...won't the Unicorn die when its horn is removed?"  
  
"No, of course not. And regarding your other queries - I'd be willing to help. But remember, timing is crucial. My sixteenth birthday falls at the end of January - should the horn not be with us by then, I will be made a Death Eater. Help me, Potter. I don't want to bind myself to evil."  
  
"Draco - I ...I'll help you. I'll help you as much as I can. I'll try, Draco, but that's all I can promise you at the moment. But - don't you think we should call a truce?"  
  
"A truce? Sure. But we do have images to maintain, you know. The trading of insults with every chance meeting is practically mandatory." He smirked, but extended a hand to Harry anyway.  
  
Harry looked up, into Draco's eyes. He steeled his gaze and shook the offered hand firmly.  
  


-TO BE CONTINUED-

  
  
  
A/N:well? howdja like that? comments? criticisms? please review. 


	5. Deceit

Much thanks to VyingQuill for beta-ing. *love*  
  
Disclaimer: Just about everything you recognize belongs to Ms Rowling and her publishers. Just about the rest is mine.  
  


CHAPTER FIVE

  


DECEIT

  
  
  
That night, Harry related the conversation between Malfoy and himself to Hermione and Ron. Their reactions, to say the least, varied greatly.  
  
"Harry, I told you he might be needing your help...you will help him, won't you? You won't let an innocent soul like his go to waste just because his father wants him to, will you? I can help you do research on this Lost Unicorn...I'm sure the library has resources that will help us find it or something...I'm sure his father is putting a lot of pressure on him to become a Death Eater and all..."  
  
"Hermione? Harry? Are you _crazy_? This is Draco Malfoy here we're talking about. The insufferable bastard who has been tormenting us for years. The one who enjoys getting us into trouble. What was that about his father pressurizing him into becoming a Death Eater? I thought he wanted to be a Death Eater? You know, I'm sure all this is just a ploy to get us all into trouble. I bet that once he gets the horn from the Unicorn he's going to become a Death Eater anyway. And we'll be helping him for nothing. We might even end up endangering the whole wizarding world. And then we'll see. Harry - you won't be the hero anymore, you won't be the Boy Who Lived; you'll be the Idiot Who Killed Us All. Hermione - you won't be considered the cleverest witch we've seen in a century, you'll be blamed for getting us all into trouble. All your bad habits at school - sneaking around at all hours - every little fault of yours will be scrutinized and people will wonder why they never saw you the way they should have. And..."  
  
Ron paused for breath. Harry and Hermione stared at him, awe-struck. Finally, Harry sighed. "Ron, I admit I see your point now...maybe...I shouldn't have simply agreed to help him. But I won't back from my promise. Let's compromise. None of us here can trust Malfoy fully, so why don't we help him, but if there is any information we feel need to be withheld from him, then we will. And of course, I will do the actual handing over of the horn - if and when we get it, if we make the time limit. I will personally ensure that both Lucius and Draco carry out their end of the agreement. The world will be better with one less Death Eater, and this boy will make a good one."  
  
Ron looked flushed from his earlier outburst, but seemed grudgingly pacified. "I suppose, a chance to rid the world of a Death Eater is better than nothing. But what if they use the horn for something evil?"  
  
Harry had not considered that possibility yet. "We'll figure something out when the time comes," he replied. But he had Plans. Ambitious plans, but Plans nonetheless. Harry Potter planned to undertake the near-impossible. Harry Potter planned to reform Draco Malfoy.  
  


* * *

  
  
Draco Malfoy entered his father's study silently. His father was standing at the window, gazing out thoughtfully.  
  
"I have carried out your instructions carefully. Harry Potter has agreed to help us procure the coveted horn of the Lost Unicorn - I doubt he knows just how precious it is. He is convinced that if the horn were to be presented to your Master, then I would be spared the fate of a Death Eater." Draco laughed, mirthlessly, at this point. "Why would I want to be spared this fate, the only fate I have known since the age of three?"  
  
Lucius continued staring out of the window for some moments. Presently he addressed his son, without deigning to turn. "You talk too much, young man. One day, that mouth of yours is bound to get you into trouble. Remember, boy - the more you speak, the more your opponent knows of you. Now, remove yourself from my sight."  
  
The elder Malfoy saw his son's jaw harden. He saw his son turn around and leave the room without a word. He saw all this through the reflection on the window's glass pane. He had noted every word uttered by his son very closely. He had noted his son's very words - "your Master". "_your_ Master". Not 'our', 'your'. It might have been a slip of the tongue, of course. Still, it never hurt to be careful. Especially not when loyalties are concerned. Was it just him, or was that last rhetoric question ironic? Lucius vowed to be more careful. To watch his son more closely.  
  
"Just a precautionary measure," he assured himself.   
  
He was rather proud of his son. He would be a capable young man. Lucius trusted him to be able to carry out the rest of the plan without fail.  
  
"If," he reminded himself, "he hardens his heart. He is too much like his mother that way. Emotions always get in the way of things."  
  
Then he redirected his train of thought. He thought of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. "Not for long," he thought. "The Potter boy doesn't know it yet, but pretty soon, his choice lies between serving the Master and dying. To him, there wasn't much competition."  
  
"Farewell, Harry Potter,  
  
"See you in the next lifetime."  
  


-TO BE CONTINUED-

  
  
  
  
A/N: well? did you like that? it's 1 am now but oh well. do review! 


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